Chris and I took advantage of the beautiful day to walk around campus and photograph some of the updates that have been made. These photos may not mean much to anyone who has not visited ORU, but trust me, the renovations that have taken place are making an enormous difference. Everything was falling apart when I graduated in 2004 and it was devastating to student morale. We were paying $20,000+ per year, but conditions kept getting worse. It was encouraging to see updates being made to the more dilapidated portions of the University. Remodeling work will continue and I hope this continues to create optimism for the future. As anyone who has attended ORU can tell you, what’s happened at the school goes far beyond dollars and cents. The renovations represent a reversal of the mismanagement of the school that left us confused, frustrated, and cynical.

In some of these photos, nothing has changed and they’re merely for my own memory’s sake. But many of them show updates to the campus and the encouraging progress that is taking place. Hopefully many ORU alumni will have the chance to see these.

The Graduate Center

The unique architecture of the Graduate Center

New welcome desk area in the GC

New chairs and artwork in the halls. There's also an updated color scheme throughout the building.

New carpet as seen in the famous Hall of Mirrors

An updated bookstore

A beautiful student admissions welcoming area. Very modern and great for prospective students.

Admissions viewing area for prospective students

Lettering above admissions welcome desk

Downstairs of the GC. Still not pretty, but much better due to new carpet & doors. Large lecture hall has also been remodeled.

The Prayer Tower & Gardens

An ORU and Tulsa icon, the Prayer Tower was constructed in 1967 and stands tall in the middle of campus. Admittedly, the only other time I had visited the building was during my college weekend visit prior to attending the school. However, today it was really nice to see the newly renovated Prayer Room and the tranquil environment it fostered. It would have been nice to have had such an area when I was living in the noisy dorms. Outside the Tower are two large garden areas that have also been updated.

No matter what updates are done, it will always look like a space ship

Looking up from underneath the Prayer Tower

The underside of the observation deck

Entering the Prayer Tower

View from the observation deck

Inside the new Prayer Room

To the right of the room

Wall decor

The centerpiece of the room, a wooden cross

Holes in cross for written prayer needs

Lots of prayer requests

Chalk for writing more public prayer messages on black boards

Outside of Prayer Room

Updated landscaping for garden area

Christ Chapel

Christ Chapel surrounded by construction

The iconic tent shape seen from the main entrance

Same shape from inside

Balcony view

Lower level view of remodeled stage

The beautiful daylight flooding in

The ugly gold remains, but the upholstery is better

The towering windows of Christ Chapel are my favorite feature of the building

The call upon which ORU was founded

Student Areas

The Eagle's Nest now has a Chick-Fil-A Express and the seating has been redone

Zoppelt Auditorium has new seating. The ugly gold and old tables are gone!

"Towers" - My dorm was on the far left

A newly opened section of the "Fishbowl" that used to be a dorm director's residence

New seating in the "Fishbowl." Other updates include flat screen TVs, pool table, air hockey, and vending machines

Separate dorms are still in effect

Fred Creek

They’re currently working to redo the sidewalls of Fred Creek. The stone looks beautiful! While I can’t remember what was there before, this is a huge improvement. A new pedestrian bridge leading to the Mabee Center has also been built.

New bridge connecting campus & Mabee Center

View when facing 81st Street

View when facing Lewis Avenue. Old pedestrian bridge seems tiny.

New stone along Fred Creek

View of the GC from the new bridge

Thoughts

It was encouraging to see the variety of improvements taking place on the ORU campus. While they may not appear overly impressive to those that have attended nicer looking schools, I was blown away by the work being done. Renovations have also been made to other facilities, including some dorm rooms, but I didn’t visit these areas. Hopefully my next visit to campus will bring even more surprising changes. The school is turning a corner and let’s pray it continues.

We’ll be visiting the Emerald City June 5-7 and taking in the Twins-Mariners game on the 6th. After more than a dozen games inside the Metrodome, this will be my first outdoor MLB game! Safeco Field is supposed to be beautiful and it appears that we have nice seats. Thanks to her eBay purchase, Meredee has a yellow Twins hat. Now I’ll have to figure out how to wash mine.

It was flattering to watch the enthusiasm in Meredee’s eyes and hear it in her voice while she planned this birthday surprise. It still astounds me how much she cares about me and receives such happiness from doing things for me. I am very fortunate to have such a giving, loving wife.

For our remaining 3 hours we were free to walk the observation platforms and enjoy the sights and sounds. The popularity of Perito Moreno is due to its movement. Most glaciers move only inches a year, but this one moves 6 to 9 feet a day, causing awesome displays of ice crashing to the water. The glacier made a couple nice showings, with only 1 truly great display that felt and sounded like the boom of a huge thunderclap. Unfortunately, the place had become so touristy that I found it difficult to enjoy. I wish they had issued duct tape at the entrance so people would have had to shut up and just sit back and enjoy the scenery. Isn’t that why we were there? All the talking drove me nuts. Admittedly, I wasn’t in the best mood either as the apartment situation continued to weigh on me and I was beginning to feel a loneliness and futility in traveling. I was in front of one of the world’s great sights, but somewhat uninterested.

Back in town, I reserved a bus ticket to El Chalten, used the Internet, and sat on a bench to think and pray. I was not okay and it was becoming quite obvious. I began to contemplate whether I would continue traveling or make plans to go home. This was a nice opportunity, but I couldn’t continue with the tears and the sadness in moments where I should have felt joy and freedom.

Before returning to the hostel, I went to the grocery store to buy food for the next hike. Only after paying did I discover that El Calafate had banned grocery bags. The girl put a few of the smaller items in what was no more than a large sandwich bag while I put my bottle of water and a package of spaghetti in a pants pocket and stacked the other items in my arms. As I walked to the hostel, I overheard an Argentine mom comment to her son upon seeing me, “No te dan bolsas en el supermercado,” to which the boy replied, “Obvio.” Interesting how what we’re used to shapes our outlook.

Thankfully I slept well that night and didn’t notice whatever noise was around me or the bed that was 6 inches too short.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and I alternated between a few minutes of sleep and thinking about the situation in BA with my apartment. It had completely ruined the great time I had in Torres del Paine and left me feeling impotent, especially being so far from the situation. We rolled into Calafate mid afternoon and I accepted a free taxi ride to a new hostel that was only charging 20 pesos per night. The rooms were small and cramped, but cheap. I made a reservation to go to Perito Moreno glacier the next day and then took a heavenly 2 hour nap to try making up for only getting 1 hour of sleep the previous evening.

The rest of the day was uneventful as I went to the LADE office to inquire about flights and found they had closed even though they were supposed to be open until 7:30 and it was only 7:15. I hate it when that happens. I asked a few questions at the bus company windows and then wandered back down to the town center. The all you can eat buffet called my name, but wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I had imagined it being while hiking. That night I regretted having tried to save 10-15 pesos by staying at this hostel. A loud Australian girl and a few Israelis were outside and then in the kitchen playing music and talking until past 2 a.m.

We went out to eat at the Mesa Grande since I’d been told about their amazing pizza. The rumors were true and this was definitely the best pizza I’d eaten in South America. We each devoured our individual pizzas–especially me. It’s amazing what 11 days of camp food will do to your appetite when you’re presented with real food. I talked the guys into splitting another one with me and my three slices were gone before they had finished their first.

Next to us at the table was a couple from suburban Washington D.C., along with their friend. We had a nice discussion and talk of the election eventually surfaced. I mentioned that I was considering voting 3rd party for the first time ever while the couple was Democrat and their friend a “moderate” Republican. The husband in this couple reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t think of whom. They were happy that we had this chance to travel and must have liked us because they came back to the table and told us they had taken care of the bill. The guy joked that it wasn’t often a Democrat could buy dinner for a Republican. What was strange was that, in the back of my mind, I had been thinking, “Wouldn’t it be cool if they picked up our bill?”, and then it happened.

Back at the hostel I checked email for the first time in 12 days and was incredulous as I read about what the landlords had done to my friend back in my apartment in Buenos Aires. I didn’t sleep much as I thought about the situation all night. I’m working on keeping this out of my mind and prefer not to write more about it for now.

From here the path entered and exited the woods several times, eventually dumping me on a field of rock. Above I could see the obstacle before me–a direct climb up between two mountains. Relatively speaking, it was a low point, but would still be quite a climb. The rain picked up and I stopped to put on my rain pants and gloves. The wind here was howling as it was either coming off Glacier Gray, the mountain, or both. This was definitely a “welcome to Patagonia” day.

Fortunately, the route up was well marked and was simply a matter of following the orange spray painted rocks. I wasn’t exactly hauling as I went up, but made no stops to rest either. I wanted to keep going and finish ASAP since the rain and wind made conditions miserable. About two-thirds of the way up, I stopped to check my camera bag. Things were still dry, but, to be safe, I moved my other lens and batteries to dry bags and into my backpack. The rain cover on my camera bag was performing valiantly, but couldn’t prevent rain from soaking the sides of the bag. At this point I said, “Oh no.” I had left my point and shoot camera in an external mesh pocket on the waist belt of my backpack. I tested it, but only got a flashing orange light. The thing appeared fried, as would be confirmed later.

Finally I reached the top of John Gardner Pass and was greeted by a mighty wind unlike anything I had experienced. Even with my sunglasses on, the wind drove raindrops into my eyes until they stung so badly that I couldn’t tell were the rain ended and the tears began. I wanted to take off my sunglasses to improve visibility, but I couldn’t sacrifice even the mediocre protection they offered. The rain on the lenses made the rocky ground look psychedelic, but I buried my head and plowed forward. At the top of the peak was a small Chilean flag, anchored by a pile of rocks. I didn’t want to stop, but had to get a picture as a souvenir of this challenging day.

Continuing on, the look over Glacier Gray defied explanation. I would have loved to have stood there and admired it, but had to get down and out of the wind. I headed for a hill of rocks, yanked off my raincoat, put on my fleece, and put the raincoat on again. I was freezing and this helped a lot. I wrung out my gloves and was amazed by the quantity of water they had absorbed. Wet gloves were miserable, but they helped mitigate the chill of the wind.

The conditions on the descent improved dramatically. I took a few pictures of the Swiss couple ahead of me on the descent, with the glacier in the background. I knew they wouldn’t come out great because of the conditions, but wanted to have something. The Swiss had stopped to take a few pictures and I joined them. Upon reaching the edge of the rock, where the path then swung left, the wind was minimal and the rain had almost vanished. From here we did a slow, careful descent of a mixture of stairs with railings and a winding path. I almost fell 3 or 4 times, but regained my balance just in time. The combination of mud and gravity were extremely treacherous and I couldn’t imagine doing this stretch without trekking poles to dig in before taking the next step down. Even with poles, I slid a number of times and had no idea how I managed to stay vertical. We stopped to take a break and eat. Down lower, we were in a much different setting of mud, trees, and warmer temperatures.

This was the first time I really got to talk with the Swiss couple. He had asked me about my camera bag back at Camp Serón and we exchanged a few comments here and there, but nothing more. I learned they had been traveling 10 months and had done much of their trip on bicycle. They were very nice and offered me bread and salami–the first meat I’d eaten in a week. We also talked about photography since he was an enthusiast and had a Canon 30D, which was in poor shape after all the rattling and dust from their travels.

We had already descended quite a bit, but the trail continued downward. Thankfully, most of this stretch had better traction. At 4:30 p.m. we arrived at Campamento Paso, relieved to be done. I pitched my tent right away in case of further rain and tried to dry out my things. They didn’t dry much though because of a lack of sun and the wind protection of our camp.

I spent that evening at a lookout point taking pictures of Glacier Gray. The cloudy conditions weren’t ideal, but the glacier was still beautiful and mind boggling in its immensity. On the way back to camp, I spent a few more moments with Reto at an outlook he had found. Back at camp, he gave me their email, website, and a few camera setting suggestions for capturing star trails. I didn’t feel much like cooking and had some cereal as it got dark, and went to bed.

An initial ascent got us sweating, but also gave some nice views over the camp and up to Glacier Dixon. I had planned to spend another day at the camp to visit this glacier, but it was currently prohibited to go there and there was no boat running at the time. The entire walk passed through quiet, peaceful forests and was mainly flat and easy going. We found a great spot in front of a waterfall and stopped for lunch before continuing. Just before reaching camp, we climbed a hill and were treated to a wonderful view overlooking Los Perros glacier and lake.

We set up camp and I chatted briefly with Bradford from Delaware and the 2 Dutch brothers he had met earlier. I then returned to the lake with my camera and tripod. I got some nice wide pics of the area and then set to try some self portraits in action. This proved extremely difficult and I again wished I had a friend with me to either be a model or take the pictures. While a group of Israelis watched me somewhat inquisitively, I tried to line up my tripod below, zooming in to the hill above where I would walk and hopefully the glacier would be in the background. I eventually found a place and set the camera to begin taking pictures at 3 second intervals, 3 minutes after I set the timer. It was a nice idea, but only 1 picture came out without me either being absent or having my head chopped off. I was going to stick around longer, but noticed I had gotten a large piece of dust inside the camera. This drove me crazy and I disgustedly packed it in and went back to camp for supper.

The first part of the walk was again very plain, passing through flat grasslands. But after a short time I was wishing for more of that boring, flat walk as I began an ascent which would cross over into another valley. From the top a new lake and set of mountains could be seen ahead. But for the blustery winds, it would have been a nice place to stop for breather and take a few pictures. I quickly continued on my way down the trail and to the more calm, warm areas of the hills and trees below. Part of me wanted to rest and eat, but I kept putting it off as I was in a groove and making good time. My pack was getting lighter by the day, my feet had recovered and toughened up, and my body was adapting and energized.

I stopped to eat and devoured dried fruit, nuts, crackers, cookies, and tortillas. This propelled me more and I must have been making decent time because I eventually caught the Chileans. We walked together towards Dixon and stopped for a final break at the top of a hill overlooking the camp. It was a lovely location, with the camp surrounded by water on 2 sides and beautiful mountains in the background. Glacier Dixon could also be seen faintly, with visibility hampered by clouds over the glacier.

We walked into camp and set up our tents and hung our wet clothes. I eventually got to the shower, which was interesting. Although there were two showers, there was only enough water pressure to use one at a time. They were not completely enclosed, but rather had a door that began at my shins and went to my shoulders. Not only did this provide some imaginative images for a couple eating dinner in the refugio, it was a bit chilly and frustrating. As luck would have it, the minute I stepped in the shower, the wind picked up and blew around my clothes and towels that were precariously perched atop the green shower door. At least the water was somewhat warm and got rid of the stink I had accumulated, even if only for another day.

That evening I took some pictures along the lake, trying to capture the mountain behind the camp. I also took a few of the 3 guys in action as they skipped rocks along the lake. There wasn’t much else to do and we headed to bed early to get a good night’s sleep.

After a short water break below, I left at 2:45 for Campamento Serón and began the backside of the Paine Circuit. I had been told these next 2 days would be unscenic and mostly dull, so that didn’t exactly inspire enthusiasm. There would also be far fewer people–good for less noise and annoyances but possibly reducing the probability of making friends.

The first 2 hours were uneventful, at first following a gravel road and then crossing flat, meadow/pasture land. While still heavy and weighing on my shoulders, my pack was significantly better, only annoying me when the belt buckle wouldn’t hold, again forcing me to yell at an inanimate object.

I passed and was passed by a group of 3 young guys. Eventually I decided to strike up a conversation and try walking with them. All of them were 23 years old and from Santiago. Ignacio, Guillermo, and Pablo were nice guys and very talkative. Again, amazingly, they brought up the US primary elections. I did my best to explain how all 3 candidates were poor choices for a conservative, but it was somewhat lost in translation and more so in the lack of cultural context and influence of the media.

The time passed more quickly with company and the walk was thankfully unchallenging. At one point we reached a stream where the water was shallow enough to cross, but deep enough to go over our boots. So, we took off our boots and socks. In order to have one less thing to carry, I decided to throw my boots to the other side. But for some stupid reason, rather than chucking them as far as possible, I decided to gracefully lob the first boot underhand style. Bad idea. It hit the shore and bounced backwards into the water and began to float downstream. I had to quickly get in and retrieve it before it floated away. I snatched it up, but the boot and sock inside were soaked. Idiot. I went back, threw the second boot well into the grass, and crossed the frigid stream with my backpack. The other guys learned from my mistake and threw their shoes baseball style as far as possible. We had a good laugh at my expense as I put on one dry boot and one where the water pooled around my toes with every step.

Eventually we arrived at the tiny Campamento Serón, set in the grassy field of the valley. We were greeted by a man who was the perfect employee for such a remote place, friendly yet somewhat socially awkward, backcountry, and who probably did fine with little social interaction. His job was to collect the 3500 pesos, run the store, and see to whatever else was required.

I took a few pictures of the camp and an old wagon sitting in the field, backdropped by the mountains. There was a shower, but I decided to wait one more day since the facilities were very basic and I wasn’t up for it. I hung my socks out to dry, hoping it wouldn’t rain, cooked supper, and went to bed.

Were it not for the brisk Patagonian winds, it would have been completely silent. We found ourselves perched along a sloping wall of rock to our left and beneath us, the side of a mountain to our right, an aqua-turquoise lake below, and the majestic Torres del Paine in front and above us. When we left camp, there had been doubt as to whether or not we’d be able to see the Towers given the wall of clouds above us and to the west that seemed to overshadow the clear, starry sky to the east. Things looked good upon arrival at the Towers as they were clearly visible, with only the tip of the tallest tower slightly shrouded by lower clouds.

Everyone chose a different position, some staying at their arrival point, others climbing to the top, and a few others going lower toward the lake. I elected a place more to the right and half way up. I thought this would allow me to include the lake more easily in the photos. In hindsight, perhaps I should have climbed to the top and gone more toward the center, but it was a guessing game and I’m not sure there was a large difference in perspective. I changed my mind a couple times and scrambled slightly upward and toward the center, trying to determine a final position and be ready for sunrise. This was tough going as I left my bags and poles at the point of arrival and slowly climbed up along the gravely surface, causing a lot of noise and a couple mini avalanches.

I leveled the tripod and started taking pictures a few minutes before sunrise. Every once in a while I had to brace myself and grip the tripod as a cold gust of wind ripped through the rocky area. Perhaps around 6:45 or so, rays of light poured over the mountain, illuminating the Towers in bright red and orange. As usual, I enjoyed the moment, but perhaps not as much as those without cameras. I would have loved to have sat there and only watched, but this was a one time experience and, of course, I had to take photographs. I zoomed in and out, changing settings and trying to cover all my bases since I knew very little about landscape photography. The show was brilliant and beautiful and left as quickly as it had come, lighting up the Towers for perhaps only 5-7 minutes.

As the colors left and the light increased, it was surprising how quickly everyone vanished. Within 20 minutes, I almost had the place to myself, joined only by 5-10 people hiding from the wind in various rocky crevices. I was not in a hurry like the others and found a large rock behind which to sit and eat my cereal. Even here, the stiff winds nearly toppled my bowl a couple times as I mixed my powdered milk and water. I sat there, bundled up, for 15-20 minutes after eating, but had to move because I was freezing cold.

I worked my way up the slope and found it even windier at the top. But after going further along the ridge, I was better protected and took a few self portraits with the tripod. The couple pictures turned out okay, but it was frustrating not having someone there to lend a hand and with whom I could share the moment. Although the Towers were no longer lit and were now a more dull brownish-gray, they were still amazing. Even more amazing than the Towers was the general sense of seclusion in this environment. Its placement up the valley and uphill made it seem as though it were exclusive and hidden, reserved only for special guests.

Eventually clouds covered the tops of the Towers and took away from the scene. I coudn’t believe the contrast as clouds steadily poured over the mountains and the Towers, only to dissipate and give way to bright blue skies on the other side. I tried leaving several times, but asked myself, “What’s the hurry?” I changed positions, going first to the right and down and then left over boulders along the lake. Even though I had carefully scrambled over the rocks for 20 minutes, the views were much the same from here. In several places I simply sat and soaked it in, knowing this may be my only visit here. I thought perhaps the skies would clear and I could spend the whole day there, but the clouds refused to budge, the wind persisted, and sprinkles of rain fell intermittently. I finally began the tricky descent around 11:30 a.m., carefully planting my poles and climbing down the rocks, sometimes sliding on the gravel. (My camera was safely tucked away to prevent any repeats of Monte Leon). This may have been the only place where the descent took me longer than the ascent.

I got back to camp around 12:45 p.m. and weighed my options. Instead of packing everything up, making the easy trip down the valley, unpacking again, and paying to camp below, I decided to spend the day resting and to tack on the descent to my 4 hour start on the backside tomorrow. This was great and allowed me to take a nap and rest my body.

The first hour was hell. It was a completely uphill kick in the pants that left me soaked with sweat. After finishing this ascent, I took a snack break and then continued on, stopping for a couple minutes to chat with a middle aged couple from Boston after the man made reference to my hat by saying, “So you’re a Twinkies fan, huh?” The walk was beautiful as it brought me into the heart of the valley heading up to the towers. From here it swung left and the final hour was another climb through the woods. Compared to yesterday, I wasn’t that tired, but the pack was still weighing on me and it was nice to get to camp around 6:30 p.m.

A minute before reaching camp, I overheard 2 girls, who were obviously North Americans, behind me. We exchanged small talk while I helped for a couple minutes with their tent. Maggie was from Omaha and Rachelle from Milwaukee. While it was nice to talk with Midwesterners, my being 6 years their senior and their style of conversation (or perhaps mine) prevented us from hitting it off really well. The park ranger came to register us, something I never understood as I could have written down any name, country, and passport number I wanted. But, at least it gave him a few minutes to flirt with a foreign blonde and brunette and he invited us to the rangers’ house for hot chocolate.

I started to heat up water for supper and then we went to inquire about that hot chocolate. The tiny house was toasty warm thanks to the wood stove and they told me to come cook my supper inside. The ranger was immediately likable. A jokester, he loved being the center of attention. I went back outside to cook as their stove wasn’t cutting it. I then returned with my mac and cheese a few minutes later and the room was slightly more full. I asked for some pepper and just about died eating my supper as I had inadvertantly dumped a small mountain of pepper on the food. I couldn’t eat it all, and since I didn’t want to bring it with me as garbage, they burned it for me inside the stove. The ranger continued with his jokes, my favorite being his impression of most Americans trying to speak Spanish. By the end of our time, the room was crowded and I snapped a couple photos before dismissing myself and going to bed. I had to get up early tomorrow and was already very tired.

We left camp at 11 a.m., about 2 hours later than expected. Andy and I put on our rainpants but ditched them after about 15 minutes. It was lightly raining but quite warm and rainpants only made it hotter. We both zipped down to shorts and continued. If I was going to be wet, I preferred more of it to be from rain than sweat. The first part of the walk took 2 hours and was quite dull as we hiked up and down, twisting through trees and rocks. Andy commented that the trails were similar to the Himilayas in that they went up and down steeply and lacked the switchbacks found on North American trails. I got to Refugio Los Cuernos about 10-15 minutes after them as I kept stopping to resinch my belt and it popped out as I tightened it–something that would plague me the whole day. Being one to have fits of rage more often with inanimate objects than with people, I probably called my pack a “Brazilian piece of crap” at least a dozen times.

At the refugio I took my boots off and entered the warm room to eat lunch. Leaving the refugio after a 30 minute break like that was cruel. We stepped outside to what felt like much colder conditions and continued on our way. We then came upon a tricky river or cascade crossing. Most points like this in the park had foot bridges but this one did not for some reason. I was exhausted and told the other 3 to continue and that I’d see them at the campsite. I reattached my pant legs, put on my fleece, and sat down to eat along the river. It was freezing as I watched a handful of people nervously, but successfully navigate their way across the rocks and to the other side. I eventually made the crossing myself and was also a little nervous that the weight of my pack may throw me off balance. But I made it across without incident, once again thanks to the help of my trekking poles.

After only a few minutes of walking on the other side of the river, I sat down because I thought I wasn’t feeling well. Fortunately (or unfortunately), it was only the bottom dropping out of my intestinal tract as my rare backwoods diet began to take its toll. The situation having been remedied in the woods, I threw my gargantuan pack back on and resumed walking. From this point I wouldn’t stop again, although every part of me wanted to do so.

The drizzly rain continued and the views remained blaw and uninspiring because of the conditions. The problem now was that my feet were killing me. Not only were they raw and sore around the edges, I couldn’t flex them any more and they felt like 2×4s. I must have looked like a cross between a little old lady and Frankenstein. The map said the walk was 7 hours, but last year we did it in about 5. This time around, the 6′5″, long-legged American needed 8 hours. Obviously the first day and my pack were taking their toll. It was a beautiful sight when I finally walked into the grassy camp area. My companions had arrived an hour earlier and had also had a tough go of it.

It was a nice moment taking off that pack and sitting down for a few minutes. I peeled off my boots and socks to discover that my feet were white, wet, and wrinkled and that my toenails were completely white as well. Putting on my sandals and allowing my feet to dry felt like heaven. Andy offered me some Pisco as I set up my tent and that certainly woke me up for a few minutes. Later, while Andy got the last few minutes of hot water, showering and being clean still felt great. I then sat down in my tent to what seemed like the most tasty spaghetti ever as the other 3 went to the refugio restaurant for dinner. Dorothy had put up with a lot her first 3 days of hiking and I think she was playing the female card and expecting (demanding) a nice meal.

I thought about going to bed, but decided to stumble to the refugio since Samuel had invited me to share some wine with them. Their dinners were marginal considering the $17 price tag, but it was something different. I paid nothing and got some wine, a few French fries, and even a free small mousse courtesy of the waitress.

Andy and I set out around 11:30 and went up the Valle Frances. This beautiful walk was mostly uphill, first climbing over rocks and boulders, and then winding through a forest of short, twisted trees. The immensity of Paine Grande was even more apparent from our higher vantage point. The snow caps and tiny glaciers added depth and color to the scene. After slightly less than 2 hours we reached Campamento Britanico and stopped for lunch. While I was sweating from the climb, sitting gave me the chills and my hands started going numb. As much as I wanted to sit there and rest, I either had to keep climbing or head down toward the camp.

The map indicated a lookout point another hour from Britanico and we decided to check it out. We were pleasantly surprised as we arrived after only 15 minutes. It didn’t seem possible for the map to be off by that much, but the word “mirador,” spray painted in orange on a rock, left little doubt. The valley was beautiful and we were surrounded by a 1/2 to 2/3 circle of mountains and granite peaks. Andy and I took some pictures and sat around for an hour, hoping the sky would clear. It remained overcast but at least the intermittent sprinkles never developed into anything more. Samuel and Dorothy met up with us here and then we started our descent.

On the way down I ran into Darrin and Gill. They had experienced problems with the bus company when the driver told them they had to get out at Laguna Amarga, the first drop off point. They had to pay for a taxi to take them to their desired starting point (the place where we started as well). At the Serrano Administration they spent an hour or more filing a complaint and speaking with park officials. They eventually got going and spent the night at Campamento Serrano. Today they had hiked from Serrano to Italiano, dropped their stuff, and then up the Valle Frances. Quite the long day!

On the way down I stopped several times to take pictures and eventually Darrin and Gill caught up to me again. We walked together for a few minutes, but separated again when I took a couple more shots. Close to camp I ran into a group of people surrounding a girl who had sprained her ankle. It had happened further up the mountain and some especially strong, agile guy had carried her down on his back. The American guys told me he had pulled off some impressive moves on the descent over the boulders, even going down backwards at a few points. I would have loved to help, but it was hard enough for me not to fall on my own, with trekking poles. Put someone on my back and they’d wind up in much worse shape. I didn’t have to carry a full pack today, but my legs and feet were still tired and sore from the previous day. It was worth the views, but it probably would have been smart to take a rest day.

I sat down to an especially large portion of pasta–both to alleviate the hunger and try to lighten my pack a little more. Samuel’s and Dorothy’s ordeals continued when he attempted to use my pot grabber for his pot that was 3 times larger than mine. It couldn’t support the weight and their pot and helping of noodles plummeted to the ground. They must have been desperate and hungry because they ate a few noodles off the clean top of the pile. I offered them the use of my pot and they eventually cooked themselves a new batch.

The first leg followed a gravel road and would have been unimpressive if not for the fantastic vew of the park. Today was much clearer than any day we had last year and finally I could see why people from all over the world came to TDP. The colors of the rock and the mountains in the distance were nothing short of breathtaking. It was hard to believe we’d be camping alongside them the same evening.

From the very get-go, it was obvious that the weight of my backpack was going to be a problem. Not only had I set forth the idea of doing 15 miles the first day, I had greatly underestimated the effects of carrying camera gear and 12 days worth of food–and food for a larger person at that. The pack was straining my shoulders within the first 20 minutes and I even went without my poles and put my hands behind my back and under the pack to lift some of the weight.

We went headfirst into the fierce, typical Patagonian winds. it had been 11 months and I had forgotten their force. The wind was relentless and made the going tougher. (I can only imagine what Samuel and Dorothy thought). Upon reaching Rio Gray, Andy realized we had missed a turn, so we decided to follow the river until running into the path. We walked over grassland and a few small hills and eventually came to Campamento Serrano after a little more than 2 hours. Here we dropped packs for a food break. It was nice to have that ton of bricks off my back and even nicer to have shelter from the wind. At last my ears had a break, even if only for a few minutes.

The slog between Serrano and Pehoe was 3 hours on the map but took us around 4. We trudged into the wind, stopping at several places for pictures. The cuernos and Paine Grande were really impressive now and the beautiful turquoise color of Lago Pehoe came into view at an outlook point. From here it seemed like we were only 15-30 minutes away from Campamento Pehoe, but it turned out to be more like an hour. The climbing of this stretch just killed me. Pehoe seemed like it would never come, but eventually appeared below as I crossed the final hill and saw the refugio building.

I dropped my pack by the line of people waiting for the boat and sat down to relax and eat. Pehoe was the wind tunnel I remembered it to be from the year before. While I had been dripping sweat earlier, the wind here was chilling and forced me to layer up. Andy arrived a few minutes later, followed by Samuel and Dorothy. I had been vacillating between staying at Pehoe and hiking to Italiano where it would be more calm. The tired side of me knew my body was approaching its limit and had been foolish to undertake so much the first day. The forward-thinking side thought about avoiding the winds, camping for free, and not having to repack the next morning. It was a tossup. Andy could have gone either way too, so we left it to the French. I was again amazed at their toughness as they decided we should press on to Italiano.

We left around 7 p.m. and it was immediately obvious I was out of steam. I stopped early on to fill up on water and would be separated from the other 3 for the rest of the hike. The valley along the way was beautiful and I got a couple pictures before it fell into shadow. After this, the beauty mattered little and it was more of going from point A to point B. I stopped to rest a couple times, once for 20 or 25 minutes to eat and try to recover some strength. I knew I’d get there eventually, but the campsite seemed a world away.

I put on my headlamp as it would soon be getting dark. About 30 minutes out from Italiano it began to rain lightly. I soon heard the roaring of the creek alongside Italiano, but was disappointed as I had to turn and follow the path along the creek for a while. Somewhere I lost the path and had to scramble over rocks along a small side stream. Had I not been here the year before and known about the footbridge, this would have been a most exasperating situation in the darkness and rain and dead tired.

Eventually I found the bridge, crossed the creek, and immediately came upon the other three. Andy’s tent was up and Samuel and Dorothy were working on theirs. I set about getting mine up ASAP and realized how much it had been raining. My pack was soaked and I should have thrown on the cover earlier. It wasn’t much fun setting up a tent by headlamp in the rain, but I eventually got it up and the rainfly on, with only a limited amount of water inside the tent. Samuel and Dorothy had survived their first day, but were obviously tired and cranky as they fought over how to set up the tent and yelled back and forth in French.

Starting at Rio Serrano was a good idea in that it gave us views of the park that most people miss. It was not, however, an intelligent route for my first day given the weight of my pack, the wind, and my lack of conditioning. Were I to do it over, I would divide it into 2 days or forego it altogether. But having done it, I was grateful for the scenery we took in and to be safe in my sleeping bag at Italiano where I could rest peacefully.

I grabbed some lunch at the supermarket and was able to change my bus departure back to 2 p.m. The trip to Puerto Natales was uneventful and we arrived promptly at 5 p.m. After a 15 minute walk with my megaton backpack, I found the Natales Hostel and was immediately impressed by its cleanliness and modernity. I headed out again to look for some white gas, something to eat, and to look for Darrin and Gill from New Zealand. They were not in their hostel, but the guys at the front let me leave a message and were kind enough to give me a bottle of white gas that a previous guest had left behind. Walking back, I said, “Lord, it would be great to bump into Darrin and Gill on the street.” Lo and behold, 5 or 10 minutes later I see Gill walking out of the grocery store just as I was approaching. They had been to a chat at the Erratic Rock hostel and picked up several good tips for Torres del Paine. I got the name of their bus company and said I hoped to see them in the morning on the bus, if not that evening.

At the hostel I went through the tedious process of dividing the dried fruit, nuts, and pastas between Ziplock bags and proportioning them to cover 12 days. This was something I had learned from Mike and it was funny how much of an expert I felt like compared to a year before.

Tony talked about a program he went through in 2000. I can’t remember the name, but it was $3500, a week long, and involved a certain amount of sleep deprivation to help patients recall their past. He pointed to the program as a key moment in his life and made some comments about the different spiritual paths people take. He was definitely of the mindset that there were many roads to God. I mentioned that I could not take away from anyone’s personal experience or transformation, but that for me, Christianity provided one key difference among all other options–the redemption of the soul from sin.

We sat around downstairs waiting for Mike’s delayed flight. Three young race volunteers talked with Tony while I sat on the floor going through a few things with my new camera. Mike’s flight finally landed and we headed to their hotel.

The guys cleaned up and I asked Michael Clark (another photographer there to shoot the race) a few questions about his gear while he unpacked. I had planned to walk with them to the auditorium for the opening ceremonies of the Patagonia Adventure Race and then go to my hostel, but the guard let me through and I went into the event with them. This turned out to be a mistake as it was rather boring, started an hour late, and then took another hour. While waiting, I chatted with Michael’s friend who was along to write about the experience.

We finally went out to eat around 10:30-11 and had a pleasant time. It would have been fun to sit around talking, but they were all exhausted from overnight flights and layovers.

The trip was uneventful and unscenic. We had left behind the scenic Andes and traveled the whole way over dreary, brownish flatlands. The border crossing went smoothly, but still took over an hour between the 2 countries. One interesting point was crossing the Magellan Straight. Our bus drove on board a large cargo ship and we sailed across the narrow waterway for about 15 minutes. I met a nice couple named Darrin and Gill while out on the deck. The were from New Zealand and headed to TDP as well.

I got to the hostel around 4:30 p.m. and found the place quite comfortable. It appeared to be an old house as the rooms featured high ceilings, old woodwork, creaking floors, and an old staircase typical of such a place. At the grocery store I hit the jackpot, scoring both a small jar of peanut butter and a box of Multigrain Cheerios. It had been over a year since I’d eaten Cheerios and finding them in the multigrain variety made me especially happy. After eating my supper of meat, rice, and vegetables, I poured myself a big bowl of cereal and chomped down while conversing with another New Zealand couple. They were very friendly and I asked them various questions about their travels over the last couple months–yet more people who’d been to Bolivia and had really enjoyed themselves.

Ian, Sarah, and Isabel accompanied us as we worked our way up the base of the mountain, stopping to look back down on the city and the Beagle Channel. The snow really added character to the setting by accenting the colors of the rock and the surrounding trees. At a high point along the trail, we sat down to eat and they were kind enough to share some of their bread, cheese, and wine. They had come prepared, complete with blankets on which to sit.

On the way down, we decided to try another trail through the woods instead of following the road. David did a superb job of leading us along the ambiguous trail. Though it was not the most efficient route and Sarah soaked her shoes, everyone enjoyed the eerie forest and the different landscape we were allowed to see. Toward the end we joined another trail and spent a short time along a lovely creek with rock walls and several beaver dams. It was hard to believe that, only a couple hours before, we had been looking up at a glacier.

Eventually we found our way back to the road and took several dirt trail shortcuts down to the city, making it much quicker than our earlier ascent along the road. I said goodbye to our 3 snowman companions and declined an offer for drinks later, knowing I’d have to be up before sunrise to catch the bus to Punta Arenas.